


3 AM

by uswntinharmony



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, and christens an innocent writer who just wants to sleep, and somehow they end up getting along, its a miracle really, tobins a drunk soccer player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uswntinharmony/pseuds/uswntinharmony
Summary: Tobin's drunk and shows up at a stranger's house at three in the morning because there was a dog and she likes dogs very much. And Christen just happens to be that stranger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first preath fic i've ever finished please don't hate me

Christen wakes up suddenly to her dog, Khaleesi, barking. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and glances at her phone. The numbers _ 3:16 _ shine on her face and she groans, knowing she has to leave for work in just two hours. She slowly swings herself out of bed and walks over to the window facing the backyard, hoping she could see what Khaleesi was going on about. Much to her surprise, Christen notices a girl who seems to be around her age playing with the dog.

Christen stares at the pair for a bit as if this whole experience is perfectly normal before it hits her that there is a  _ stranger _ in her backyard with her dog. She immediately grabs a warm jacket and slips on the nearest shoes (which just happens to be a new pair of fur boots she had gotten yesterday from her best friend, Julie) and runs out her bedroom door and down the stairs (which she nearly falls on). She doesn’t stop her momentum until she steps outside onto the icy grass and spots the girl.

“Hello?” Christen calls out cautiously.

The girl stops petting Khaleesi and looks up at the source of the voice.

Christen approaches her carefully, not wanting to agitate her. “What are you doing in my yard?”

The stranger puts her hand on Christen’s shoulder. “I like dogs,” she slurs. “I like  _ your _ dog.”

Christen lifts her hand off of her shoulder. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not.”

“Are t--,” she’s interrupted by an awful retching sound and the feeling of warmth on her shoes. “Great,” she mutters.

“Sorry,” the girl apologizes weakly.

Christen sighs, feeling bad for the girl. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up.”

She manages to lift the girl’s arm around her neck and they hobble to the door, Khaleesi following shortly behind. Christen pauses for a moment to take off her now dirty boots before leading the girl inside. She gently lays her on the couch and lights a fire in hopes of warming the two of them up. By the time she turns around after finally getting a small flame started (it’s harder to build a fire than she thought,) the girl is asleep.

“Probably for the best,” Christen says to herself and trudges off to the shower.

 

***

 

By the time Christen finishes her shower and gets dressed, there’s only an hour left until she’s supposed to go to work. She goes downstairs to check on the stranger, discovering she’s still fast asleep by the diminishing fire. Christen doesn’t know how long this girl would be out for, and she doesn’t want to wake her; that’d be cruel. The only logical thing to do would be to take off work, really (she would do anything to get out of work.)

“Hey, Ali,” Christen greets when she hears the other line pick up.

“Christen? What’re you doing up so early?” Ali questions.

“Long story. Listen, is there any way I can  _ not _ go into the office today? I can work from home and everything, but,” she pauses to look at the stranger lightly snoring on her couch. “I have a bit of a situation here.”

Ali doesn’t speak for a moment, presumably thinking. “That should be fine. We could reschedule that 8:00 meeting to 7:00 tomorrow, I guess. Does that work for you?”

Christen lets out a sigh of relief. “Perfect. I promise I’ll finish all of the editing for tomorrow’s sports section and turn it into your inbox by tonight.”

“Great, thank you, Christen. Good luck with whatever’s going on.”

“Thanks,” she looks at the girl again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Christen?” Ali says as Christen is about to press the  _ End Call  _ button.

“Yeah?” Christen puts the phone back up to her ear.

“You’re still coming to the banquet tonight, right?”

Christen’s heart sinks. She had completely forgotten about the dinner her work was having to celebrate its five year anniversary. She was hoping to just have a quiet night in, but alas. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she forces a cheery voice.

“Fantastic. I look forward to seeing you there,” Ali hangs up the phone.

Christen breathes out and falls back into a chair. Khaleesi pads over to her, placing her head on her lap in a plea for attention. “What have you gotten us into,” Christen laughs softly, stroking Khaleesi’s fur.

She remembers suddenly that she hadn’t really cared for this stranger at all (other than providing her couch.) Upon this realization, Christen decides to get to work. She climbs up the stairs once more to gather some clothes from her dresser that the girl could change into when she wakes up. Not knowing her size off the top of her head, she leans towards the safe side, picking out a rather large Stanford sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. She puts the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch before going to the guest bathroom, filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing a washcloth.

Narrowly spilling all of the bowl’s contents due to Khaleesi’s persistent fight to be the center of attention, Christen makes it back to the couch safe and sound. She grabs a stool from the kitchen and pulls it up so she’s sitting by the girl’s head. This stranger’s really pretty, actually, now that she takes a moment to study her. Sure, she looks like a drunken mess with her matted hair and flushed cheeks, but beyond all that Christen finds her to be beautiful. 

She submerges the cloth she got earlier in the warm water and gently presses it to the girl’s forehead. She slowly moves the cloth down to her cheeks, leaving a thin layer of water behind. At this gesture, the girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Christen says gleefully.

“Who are you?” the stranger asks immediately.

“The better question is, who are  _ you _ ?”

“Tobin,” she groans, sitting up. “Tobin Heath.”

“Well, Tobin Heath, care to explain why you were in my backyard at three in the morning?”

“I’ll explain who I am once you do,” she crosses her arms.

“You try to be nice and care for someone you’ve never met who, should I add, was completely wasted, and this is how you’re repaid,” Christen rolls her eyes. “Well, if you must know, I’m Christen Press. I’m an editor for a small newspaper here in Chicago, and I play soccer in a recreational league with my best friend,” she turns to her dog. “And this, in case you cared, is Khaleesi. I found  _ you _ playing with her a few hours ago and when I tried to talk to you, you just puked on my brand new shoes.”

Tobin bursts out laughing, causing Christen to dislike her even more. “I really did that? Man, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Christen mutters.

“Well,” Tobin starts, patting Khaleesi. “I’m Tobin.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“No need to get sassy on me here,” she raises her arms in defense. “I’m really a decent person, I swear. Last night was just not one of my best.”

“You could say that again.”

“What do you want from me, Press?”  
Christen smirks in response to the nickname. “An explanation, of course.”

Tobin sighs. “So I play professional soccer-”

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere!” Christen shouts, pumping her fist in the air. “Sorry,” she adds sheepishly, receiving a death glare from Tobin.

“Anyway, I play for the women’s team in Chicago, the Red Stars. I’ve been here for a while, and this whole time I’ve lived with my best friend, Alex.”

“Alex Morgan?”

Tobin chuckles. “Yes, her.”

“I love her!”

“I’m offended that you only love Alex and not me,” Tobin gives a fake gasp.

“Alex isn’t the one who threw up on my new pair of boots.”

“Well she’s the reason  _ I _ did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Christen looks down.

“Yeah,” Tobin leans back. “So basically, ever since we’ve started playing with each other, I’ve had this huge crush on her. Like, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get this girl out of my head. But I knew she was straight, so there wasn’t exactly much I could do,” she breathes in deeply. “Long story short, she eloped yesterday with this guy and didn’t even tell me till after she had tied the knot.” 

Christen notices a tear slip from the corner of Tobin’s eye and she gently takes her hand. “Listen, I’m sure you’re a great girl. If Alex can’t be bothered to tell you about something as important as marriage, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah,” Tobin replies, unconvinced.

“Tobin, look at me,” Christen squeezes Tobin’s hand, causing her to glance up. “Don’t waste your time on this girl. She obviously doesn’t care for you the same way you do for her. There’s no need for you to be pining after her when she’s not worth it.”

Tobin sighs. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. So how ‘bout a cup of coffee for the hangover I know you must have?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Christen leaves Tobin to cuddle with Khaleesi while she makes coffee for the two of them (she forgot to ask Tobin how she takes it, so she just makes it black, like Christen likes it.) When she walks back in the room with two steaming cups, her heart melts. The sight in front of her was just too cute. Khaleesi had fallen asleep on Tobin’s lap, pinning her to the couch, helpless to do anything but pet the dog.

Christen chuckles to herself, as she’s been in the same situation on multiple occasions, and gives Tobin her coffee. “I made it black, hope you’re okay with that.”

Tobin shrugs. “I’m not too particular.”

“Okay, cool,” Christen settles into the couch next to Tobin, who had curled her legs up to make room.

“So, Press, what’re your plans today?”

“Well, I was gonna go to work, like,” she checks the clock on the shelf. “A few minutes ago.”

“Well, why aren’t you?”

“Because, Tobin Heath, I’m too busy taking care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Tobin scoffs. “I can take care of myself perfectly well, thank you very much.”  
Christen looks at her skeptically. “Just like you did last night?”

“Good point.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, anyway. I can do most of my work from here,” Christen gestures to the space around them.

“Okay, I just don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Christen laughs. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Tobin slumps forward towards Christen. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Well, for starters you can replace the boots you ruined,” Christen says without skipping a beat.

Tobin nods. “Fair enough.”

“Also,” Christen chews her lip. “Would you mind maybe, if it’s alright, going, if it’s okay with you of course--.”

“Spit it out, Pressi,” Tobin gives her another nickname.

“Pressi?”

“I think it fits,” she crosses her arms.

“I’m not complaining,” Christen smiles.

“So what were you saying, Pressi?”

“Would you mind being my date to a work banquet thing I have to go to tonight?” Christen spills quickly.

Tobin looks taken aback. “Date?”

“Well, you see, I have to bring  _ someone _ to this thing. I was gonna bring Julie, but then something came up in her family. I completely spaced about this whole thing until my boss reminded me of it this morning, so if you already have plans, I totally get it. I can ask one of my other friends if you can’t, but you were here and you owe me one so I figured--.”

“Stop stressing, Press. I’ll go with you,” she cuts Christen off and takes her hand, squeezing it.

A wave of relief washes over her. “Awesome, thanks, Tobs.”

“Tobs?” Tobin questions the name much like Christen asked about hers before.

“You’re not the only one who can come up with cute nicknames.”

“Oh, so you think they’re cute?”

“Totally.”

“Well then,” Tobin shifts her position so she’s laying across Christen, head in her lap. “I guess I’ll have to come up with more of them, won’t I, Chris?”

“You don’t have to,” Christen blushes.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Tobin says matter-of-factly.

Christen looks down in hopes of disguising the pink she knows is deepening. “Thanks.”

“So, Press, if you’re gonna take me as your date to some sort of fancy dinner party, don’t you think you should take me on a  _ real _ date first?”

“For someone who trespassed on my property and puked on me, you sure ask a lot.”

“I’m just saying,” Tobin puts her arms behind her head. “It’s proper, don’t you think?”

Christen rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll take you to a movie. But that’s it.”

Tobin shrugs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

 

***

 

The movie theater is practically empty due to the fact that it’s only eight in the morning, but Christen doesn’t mind. She’s always annoyed by little whispers that travel around the room and loud crunches when people eat popcorn, so she’s quite pleased. Tobin, however, expresses her annoyance about being on a date this early to Christen.

“Who in their right mind would go on a date at eight o’clock AM,” she stresses.

“People who have work to do later and were woken up by a drunken girl in the middle of the night,” Christen responds. “Now, are you going to choose what movie we’re seeing or what?” she gestures to the board showing movies currently showing.

Tobin scans the sign carefully. “How about Rogue One? Star Wars is always a crowd pleaser.”

Christen nods and goes to buy their tickets from the half-asleep employee. “Room six,” she returns, handing Tobin the piece of paper.

“Cool,” Tobin grins in such a childish way that Christen really can’t believe this girl is her age.

As they start walking to their assigned room (after getting some popcorn that Tobin insisted she needed,) Tobin grabs Christen’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “What are you doing?” Christen hisses.

“Holding your hand, duh,” Tobin rolls her eyes.

“But  _ why _ ?” 

“Have you ever been on a date, Press? It’s sort of something you do.”

“I have not.”

Tobin looks aghast. “Press! You’ve never been on a date?”

Christen thinks for a moment. “Not a true one, no. I just don’t have time.”

“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” Tobin smiles, melting Christen’s heart.

“You should be. I’m a catch.”

Tobin laughs, leading them to some seats she picked out in the theater. “Truly.”

“Back row, huh?” Christen comments as they sit.

“You know it,” Tobin winks.

“You’re a flirt.”

“Yep,” Tobin leans back, making herself comfortable.

“Well at least you know it,” Christen mutters just as the movie starts.

 

***

 

If Christen said she didn’t enjoy Tobin flirting and teasing her throughout the movie, she’d be lying. She  _ knows _ Tobin’s probably just trying to get over Alex, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. She hasn’t been on a date in  _ years _ , if you even counted this as a date. Quite frankly, Tobin could’ve taken her to Chuck E Cheese and she would’ve been okay with it.

“Hey, Tobin?” Christen breaks the comfortable silence they were sharing on the car ride home.

“Mhm,” Tobin replies, busy tracing patterns on Christen’s thigh.

“Was this a date? Like a serious romantic one?”

“That depends,” Tobin shifts her position so that she’s no longer touching Christen. “Do you want it to be?”

Christen sighs. “Well yeah, but I just don’t want to be a rebound to you.”

“Press,” Tobin takes Christen’s hand. “I promise you that’s not true. I really do think you’re cute and I really do like you.”

“Really?”

Tobin squeezes her hand. “Chris?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” she breathes in. “I think you’re a really sweet and beautiful and adorable girl and you probably won’t believe me cause of Alex, but I swear I think you’re really,” she searches for the right word. “Great?”

Christen sniggers. “Great?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Tobin pouts.

“Fine,” Christen takes pity on her.

The car falls silent, neither of them knowing what to talk about. Christen reflects on the whole morning, it being one of the craziest she’s had. The only ones that were worst were at college. Surprisingly, Stanford can get a bit rowdy.

“Hey, Pressi?” Tobin interrupts her train of thought.

“Mhm?”

“Do you maybe want to go to Toyota Park?”

“Like, where you guys play?” Christen is taken aback.

Tobin laughs. “Yes.”

“Is that okay?” she looks concerned.

“Yep,” Tobin nods.

“You sure?” Christen questions.

“Positive.”

“Well then, I’d love to,” Christen smiles.

“Cool,” Tobin relaxes. “You know where it is, right?”

“Do you even know me, Tobin Heath?”

“Honestly, no.”

Christen considers this. “I suppose that’s true.”

“All I know is your job and your best friend. Also, your adorable dog.”

“Khaleesi’s okay when she’s not chewing on your shoes.”

Tobin chuckles. “Well, you seem to know me.”

“Well, I know you, but I don’t  _ know _ you. Know what I mean?” Christen tries to explain.

“Yeah, I mean you know I play for the Red Stars, and everything they publicize about me. Nothing else, though.”

“I know you threw up in my yard at 3:00 in the morning.”

“Sorry about that,” Tobin apologizes. 

“It’s alright. You had a good reason,” Christen comforts.

Tobin shrugs. “I guess. But, Press, we were talking about  _ you _ .”

“What do you want to know?” Christen takes the next exit.

“The small things. Like, what’s your favorite color?” 

“You’re cute,” Christen giggles.

“Why do you say that?” Tobin pouts. “I’m a cold hard bitch.”

Christen shakes her head. “You just are, can’t explain it.”

“Fair enough. I’m not though.”  
“You _are_ ,” Christen protests. “But anyway, my favorite color is green. What’s yours?”

“Blue. Favorite movie?”

“Finding Nemo. Don’t laugh.”

Tobin suppresses a smirk. “Alright. Mine’s Searching for Bobby Fischer.”

“The chess movie?”

“Yes, the chess movie,” Tobin confirms.

Christen pulls into the empty parking lot of Toyota Park. “What’re we even doing here, anyway?”

“I thought you’d want to kick around the ball a bit. We don’t have to, obviously,” Tobin backtracks.

“You kidding me? I’d love to!” Christen replies enthusiastically.

Tobin laughs. “You’re adorable.”

“Thanks, Tobs,” she skips off to the stadium’s entrance.

Tobin shakes her head and smiles to herself, not believing this girl she was slowly beginning to like a whole lot.

 

***

 

The pair spends the whole afternoon on the field, only stopping to take a break when Tobin gets hungry. Luckily, Christen stores energy bars in her car for emergencies, which Tobin is very excited to hear about. They only take about ten minutes to have “lunch,” and then they’re back at it. They play fun little games; ones that make Christen laugh. 

In one instance, Tobin acts as the goalkeeper, trying to (but unsuccessfully) stop Christen’s shots. In another, Christen tries to steal the ball from Tobin, but it’s really pointless, considering Tobin’s skill level. Christen thinks the most fun thing was at sunset, when they decide to scrimmage one-on-one. Christen knows she’s way worse than Tobin, but she keeps up with her alright (probably because Tobin is letting her). The score ends up being 17-16, in Christen’s favor. 

“You  _ let _ me win,” Christen crosses her arms.

“Did not,” Tobin gasps indignantly.

“You so did.”

“I plead the fifth,” Tobin steals the ball from Christen and starts to juggle it.

“You can’t do that,” Christen sulks.

“Sure I can,” Tobin shrugs, bouncing the ball from one foot to the other. “It’s my right as an American citizen.”

“Well, in any case, we should go back home and freshen up before the banquet.”

Tobin slaps her hand to her forehead. “I totally forgot, Press. My bad.”

“You’re all good, Tobs. It doesn’t start till eight, anyway,” Christen reassures.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“I do,” Christen follows Tobin out the staff entrance to her car. “So, Tobin Heath, I don’t suppose you own any fancy clothes?”

Tobin frowns, thinking. “Well, I do, but they’re at my place.”

“So?”  
“ _So_ ,” Tobin drags out. “Alex is there.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” Christen offers, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Cool, thanks, Chris,” Tobin leans back.

“I can’t guarantee it’ll fit though.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect, just like you,” she replies without skipping a beat.

It’s not a long drive from the stadium to Christen’s house, thankfully. By the time they unlock the front door and appease Khaleesi by ruffling her fur, they have around half an hour before they have to leave again. 

“C’mon, Tobs. We’ve got an outfit to choose,” Christen grabs Tobin’s hand and drags her up the stairs. “There’s no time to shower, so you’ll just have to wear my perfume or something.”

Tobin sighs and lets Christen get to work, catching every dress, top, and skirt thrown at her. Once Christen sorts through her entire closet, Tobin’s got an armful of clothes that stretches so high it covers her face. 

“You try those on,” Christen commands, walking away. “I have to get ready myself. Don’t choose anything without showing me first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tobin rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Tobin Heath,” she says with her back turned.

“I’ll just try on this stuff now.”

“That’s what I thought.”

After about 50,000 different combinations of dresses and skirts and heels, Tobin thinks she’s found the one. She makes her way to the bathroom to the best of her abilities in heels to hopefully gain Christen’s approval. She knocks on the door lightly before entering. Christen turns away from her mirror where she was putting on eyeshadow and her jaw dropped.

“You,” she raked her eyes up and down Tobin’s figure. “Look amazing.”

Tobin stares at the ground, blushing. “Thanks. So I don’t have the worst fashion sense in the world?”

“God, no. I will say, though, I had my doubts. Good call on the green, it compliments you.”

“Am I Press Approved?” Tobin jokes.

“For sure,” Christen nods. “You still need hair and makeup, though.”

“I don’t wear makeup,” Tobin states simply.

“But  _ Tobin _ ,” Christen protests. “You  _ have  _ to.”

“I don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” she mocks Christen’s tone.

“Fine,” Christen concedes. “But at least do your hair,” she gestures to the messy ponytail caused by their game of soccer.

“Alright, alright,” Tobin undoes her hairdo and tries her best to comb through it. “How come yours is so perfect?”

“What can I say?” Christen shrugs. “Some people are just born perfect.”

Tobin gasps and punches Christen’s shoulder playfully. “How dare you!”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“It was  _ implied _ .”

“I don’t think it was.”

“You’re impossible, Christen Press,” Tobin finishes brushing out her hair to the best of her abilities. “This okay?”

Christen turns to see almost a messier style of hair than before. “Let me have a try,” she laughs.

Luckily, Christen is basically a hair expert (she has a lot of it, after all), so it doesn’t take her long to transform the tangled mess before her into an elegant braid that has some fancy name she can’t pronounce. Even after dealing with Tobin’s fashion crisis, she still had enough time to finish up her makeup and get dressed. 

“Hey, Tobin?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind feeding Khaleesi for me while I change? She gets a little over a cup of the kibble that’s in the labeled bag on the counter,” Christen asks timidly.

“Will do,” Tobin salutes and marches out of Christen’s room.

Christen rolls her eyes at Tobin’s joking manner and turns to where her dress is hanging in the closet. “It’s just you and me now.” It takes her a little while, but she manages to slip on the outfit and zip it up, grabbing a clutch and some heels.

“Chris, I did what you told me to and Khaleesi--,” Tobin is cut off by what she sees in front of her. “Wow, Press. Like, wow.”

Christen flushes a deep crimson that she hopes Tobin can’t see due to her blush she had put on earlier.

“No one can pull off red like you can,” Tobin stares, mouth gaping.

“Thanks, Tobs.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just being honest,” Tobin shrugs.

“You’re sweet.”  
“I’m _honest_ ,” Tobin corrects.

They share a moment of silence before Christen clears her throat. “We should probably get going.”

“Probably.”

 

***

 

The ride to the venue is longer than Christen thought, but she isn’t complaining. She and Tobin sing along to almost all the songs on the radio, not caring how loud they are. About halfway through the trip, Tobin finds Christen’s hand on the center console and covers it with her own, squeezing gently. It was such a sweet gesture that Christen involuntarily responds, intertwining their fingers together. Christen is almost disappointed once they pull into the entrance to The Langham.

“This is where the banquet is?” Tobin steps out of the car in awe. 

“Yeah,” Christen replies. “Ali wanted it to be super fancy, so she basically spent all of the company’s funds on this thing.” 

“That doesn’t seem too smart of her.”

“It’s really not. But I guess we’ll see if it payed off,” Christen locks the car and walks to the hotel doors to the best of her abilities in heels.

“Wait, Press!” Tobin catches up and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“What?”

She slips her hand in Christen’s. “I missed you.”

Christen feels her cheeks warm. “I’m right here.”

“Well yeah, but I missed  _ you _ ,” Tobin jokes.

“You’re cute,” Christen shakes her head, smiling.

“You’re cuter,” Tobin swings their hands back and forth.

“Why do you say that?” Christen questions as they enter the building.

“Cause you are.”

“Not really, but thanks.”

“Trust me, you are,” Tobin validates.

“You’re something else, Tobin Heath. You know that?”

“I do,” Tobin’s attention is drawn away once they turn the corner into the room Ali rented. “Chris!” she jumps a bit, excited.

“Yes?” Christen asks, amused.

“Is that a chocolate fountain I see?”

“Indeed it is.”

“We  _ have _ to go there,” she points.

“Maybe later, Tobs. We have stuff to do.”

Tobin sighs. “Fine, but if you don’t go with me later I’m never forgiving you.”

“Fair enough,” Christen leads Tobin over to the round tables where many of her coworkers were already seated. “Hey, guys!”

“Christen!” a man stands and embraces her. “How’ve you been? We missed you today.”

“Hey, Isaac. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier, there was a situation back home,” she glances at Tobin.

“I understand. Who’s your hot date?” he nods towards Tobin.

“This is Tobin. She’s, um,” Christen trails off, not really knowing what she and Tobin’s relationship was.

“I’m her girlfriend,” Tobin interjects.

“Ah,” Isaac looks bemused. “You never mentioned you were, you know,” he pauses.

“Gay?” Christen finishes. “It’s not exactly something that’s often brought up in the workplace.”

“Right,” Isaac, embarrassed, sits back down next to his wife.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tobin,” another man that she ends up sitting next to holds out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Lucas. You must be pretty special, Christen doesn’t really do anything but work.”

Christen blushes in response. “She’s certainly something else.”

“Oh, you love me,” Tobin places her hand on Christen’s thigh.

“Eh,” Christen shrugs.

“Rude.”

“You two are so cute,” the girl sitting on the other side of Christen observes. “Hey, I’m Allie. Allie with an I-E. It can get pretty confusing when your boss is also named Ali,” she waves at Tobin.

“Hi, Allie with an I-E.”

“Wait, do I know you from somewhere?” Isaac leans forward across the table, studying Tobin’s face.

“I play professional soccer?” Tobin offered, uncomfortable with the situation.

He snaps his fingers. “That’s right. Told you, honey,” Isaac kisses his wife not-so-innocently.

“That’s gross,” Tobin whispers into Christen’s ear.

“Isaac’s gross,” she responds.

“True.”

“So, Tobin, how’d you meet Christen?” Allie asked.

“Um,” she hesitates. “I thought her dog was cute, but she turned out to be even cuter.”

“Smooth, Heath,” Christen says quiet enough so only Tobin could hear.

Allie smiles. “That’s adorable! Isn’t that adorable, babe?” she nudges the man sitting next to her.

“That’s her husband, Jose,” Christen informs Tobin.

His response, however, was interrupted by the slew of waiters coming out through double doors in the back of the room.

“Hors d’oeuvres, madam?” a handsome looking man offers Christen.

“I’m good, thank you,” Christen denies politely.

“Are you sure, Miss? They’re quite a delicacy,” he shoves the tray toward her face.

“I’m really okay, but thanks for the offer,” Christen says more forcefully.

Tobin interjects. “She’s allergic to figs, man. I would really appreciate it if you  _ didn’t _ make my girlfriend break out in hives, thanks.”

“My apologies,” he side eyes Tobin and walks away.

“How’d you know I was allergic?” Christen whispers to Tobin, surprised.

“I didn’t,” Tobin shrugs. “I was just trying to save you from that guy. And those disgusting fig things, too.”

“Hey!” a girl who had been quiet this whole time spoke up. “From where I’m from, hors d’oeuvres are traditional. And for your information, they can technically be any appetizer, not just the fig kind.”

“That’s Amandine Henry, our only foreign worker. We just call her by her last name, it’s easier,” Christen explains.

Tobin nods and takes two teriyaki meatballs for herself and Christen. “You like teriyaki, right?”

Christen opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted by a loud “Christen!” 

She turns to see Ali marching toward her, face red. “Oh no,” she mutters.

“You promised me you’d have the sports article turned in by tonight, and what do I have? Nothing. I have nothing. Care to explain yourself?” Ali puts her hands on her hips impatiently.

“Well, I, um,” Christen looks down, flustered.

“She was with me actually,” Tobin pipes up. “You know, a day in the life of Tobin Heath, professional soccer player.”

“You know Tobin Heath?” Ali looks at Christen conspicuously.

“Know her? She’s her girlfriend,” Tobin reassures.

“Well, Christen, I’m impressed. I had no idea how dedicated you were to your work.”

“She’s not dating me because of my profession,” Tobin crosses her arms.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. She’s basically married to her work. We never see her at any of the events we hold outside of the office.”

“Listen here,” Tobin gets out of her chair and marches up to Ali, looking her up and down.

“Tobin, don’t,” Christen reaches out to grab Tobin’s arm, but she’s too late.

“If you think you can go around insulting Christen just because you’re her boss, you’re quite mistaken. She doesn’t have to stay here. She works for you because she loves what she does, and you have no right to take away the joy she has just because she missed one deadline. If you’re going to treat her this way, I’m more than willing to pull a few strings to get her on the Red Stars group,” Tobin rambles passionately.

Ali looks at her blankly, astonished someone confronted her, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Tobin. I’m sure the public is going to  _ love _ the article I’m going to write about you. I can see the headline now:  **Soccer Star Tobin Heath Attacks Innocent Pedestrian** . Christen, you’re off the hook for your story this week. I seem to have one right here,” she smiles smugly and walks off, heels clacking in her wake.

Tobin slumps back down in her seat and puts her face in her hands. “Great. Management is never going to let me out of their sight again.”

“I’m so sorry, Tobin,” Christen rubs her back.

“It’s fine,” she mutters.

“Not really.”

“It’s my fault. I should’ve just stayed put.”

“Well, I appreciate you standing up for me if that counts for anything.”

Tobin gives a half smile. “It does.”

“Listen,” Christen glances up at their table, realizing that everyone’s eyes are on them. “How bout we go outside for a bit? Get some air.”

“Okay,” Tobin whispers and allows Christen to take her hand and lift her out of her chair.

“We’ll be back, guys. Try not to burn down the place while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Allie smiles.

Christen rolls her eyes and focuses back on Tobin, squeezing her hand as they make their way out of the building. As soon as they feel the cool air on their cheeks, Tobin’s eyes start to well up with tears, and as hard as she tries not to let it show, Christen notices anyway. 

“You’ll be okay, Tobs, I promise,” she pulls her into a tight hug. She can feel her dress becoming damp from Tobin’s tears, but she doesn’t care. She traces patterns on Tobin’s back, trying her best to soothe her.

“You don’t understand,” Tobin mumbles. “My entire career is dependent on this. My entire reputation could be destroyed. The Red Stars could release me, my sponsors could drop me. I could actually become homeless.”

“Baby, that’s just a worse case scenario,” Christen says softly.

Tobin looks up from where her face was buried in Christen’s chest. “Baby?”

Christen shrugs. “It felt right. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, good.”

“Hey, Chris?” Tobin sniffles.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay here?”

“Well, we should probably get inside soon so we don’t freeze to death,” Christen reasons.

“No, I mean,” she pauses. “Here with me.”

“I  _ am _ here, Tobs.”

Tobin sighs. “What I’m trying to say is that I want to be with you. I want to be there for you just as you’re here for me in this very moment. I want to be there when you’re sad and when you’re happy and when you’re frustrated at something trivial,” she looks up, eyes slightly puffy. “Christen Press, would you grant me the honor of being your  _ real _ girlfriend?”

Christen takes Tobin by surprise, pulling her in for a lasting kiss. “Of course, Tobin Heath,” when Christen pulls away, she can’t help but giggle a bit at Tobin’s dazed grin. “Who knew I would ever date a drunk girl who showed up at my house in the middle of the night.”

“Bet I’m the coolest drunk girl who’s ever showed up at your house in the middle of the night,” Tobin smirks.

“By far.”

“I really like you, Press,” Tobin states solemnly.

“And I really like you, Heath,” Christen takes Tobin’s hand and pulls her up from the ground. “How ‘bout you and I go visit the chocolate fountain?”

Tobin smiles. “I’d love that.”


End file.
